There I stood with my pen and paper. I looked into Duane Eddy's eyes and he looked into mine. I couldn't make myself say anything. Maybe he couldn't, either. After a few awkward minutes I turned and walked away with no autograph. I've never been much of a fan since then. I was probably eleven or twelve.
In the last week I've had two wonderfully sweet folks come up to talk to me and tell me that they have had to get a running start to approach me. One of them explained that he had never had the nerve to talk to any musician who he followed. He was articulate and polite and I could totally relate to his plight. It made for a very special moment for me.
My ridiculous, lucky life has had me hanging out with most of my heroes. In my Forrest Gump existence it all just went by me in some slow dream parade. For the last four or five years Photoshop has rounded out my social life.